


Joyous Gard

by Tegels



Category: Original Work
Genre: 6th Century, Anger, Arthurian, Bernicia, Deira, Gen, Historical Big Bang, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-10
Updated: 2012-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tegels/pseuds/Tegels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Historical Big Bang 2012 - http://history-bigbang.livejournal.com/10316.html</p><p>Britain 520 century CE: an Anglian warband from the kingdom of Deira has recently invaded British-held Berneich and they have taken the coastal fortress of Din Guardi. Called to help fight Pictish raiders, warrior Wlenca unexpectedly sees a face he recognises. It is Kai, part Briton and part Saxon, who betrayed Wlenca and his king in Deira five years before, then disappeared. Wlenca seeks revenge, but the past catches up with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Names - characters**  
>  Arthur (King) - briefly mentioned
> 
> Idehere - nickname Ida, legendary first king of Bernicia
> 
> Kai - Kai’s name is variously rendered as Kay, Cei, or Cai in Arthurian tales. It could be a shortened version of the Roman Caius.
> 
> Medraut - briefly mentioned in a Romanised form as Moderatus
> 
> Westerfalca - nickname Falca, a legendary king of Deira
> 
> Wlenca - Over the years I’ve been interested in the ‘Arthurian’ era, I once came across a theory that reckoned the name Saxon name of Wlenca could be equated with the legendary Lancelot.
> 
> Welsh - The Anglo-Saxons call the Britons ‘Welsh’ or 'Wealas' meaning foreigner
> 
>  **Geography**  
>  Berneich - or Bernicia, expanded rapidly to include Deira by the 7th century, becoming known as Northumbria. Berneich is roughly today’s Northumberland.
> 
> Camlann (Crooked Glen) - briefly mentioned
> 
> Deira - or Deur, equates roughly to parts of north and east Yorkshire. The strongest Deiran King, Edwin, did manage to briefly rule Northumbria in the early 7th century, though mostly the Deiran lords were subservient to the Bernicians after that time
> 
> Din Guardi - In Arthurian legend, Din Guardi has been identified with Joyous Gard, the fort of Lancelot. Bamburgh is sometimes equated with Din Guardi
> 
>  **Music**  
>  The main theme for this part of the tale is:
> 
>  _Gaeta's Lament_ from Season 4 of Battlestar Galactica - apart from the lovely keening music and the wonderful singing voice of Alessandro Juliani, some of the words are apt too.
> 
> And if you want to hear some Old English, the CD from Season 4 also thoughtfully includes a song in that language! ( _The Cult of Baltar_ )
> 
>  **Acknowledgements**  
>  A very big Thank You to:  
> Iferion - for the fabulous art  
> Scribblemoose and Tryfanstone - for the encouragement  
> Mann - for being a Beta reader

Wlenca reined in his horse near the crowd of King Idehere's soldiers. He could see that the fight was at an end. Dead bodies lay amongst the scrub land, and the Anglian wounded were being tended. Idehere’s men were lined up, and there was one Pict still standing. He had not t broken and run, unlike the other Picts Wlenca could see in the distance, disappearing into the tree line.

Rather than urging his horse through the pack of men, Wlenca dismounted and pushed his way forward in search of Idehere. Meanwhile the lone Pict held his ground. At least Wlenca thought it was a Pict until he got closer and saw the man’s shield – white painted, with a red faded cross-like symbol on it. Not the typical Pict then, who tended to have writhing animal pictures, showing their tribal affiliation, judging by what Wlenca had seen in the past months. Then he realised the man was helmeted. Even more unusually, the helmet was not of a common type. It was a close fitting affair, with a metal ridge and cheek pieces, and no decoration. He had seen one similar, years ago, back in Deira. The lone warrior also had a sword, rather than a common foot soldier’s spear. Wlenca hesitated a moment, not quite believing what he was seeing.

“Ah, Wlenca, just the man!” called Idehere, walking toward him.

Wlenca stepped out before the rest of the young king's men, looking from him, to the lone warrior, and then back again, hardly comprehending.

“What is this Ida?” he snapped, calling the king by the shortened version of his name.

“I recognised him as soon as I saw him,” Ida growled, then grinned, gesturing toward the distant treeline, and the last of the fleeing Picts, “His life for theirs. Noble all of a sudden.” He snorted.

Wlenca looked back at the warrior a few strides away, finally seeing him properly. Making himself understand.

Wlenca took in the familiar sight. The warrior was a little taller than average, with a finely balanced build, and the well-formed features. Always clean-shaven, iron grey eyes, and wisps of dark hair escaping from under the helmet. Those eyes, framed with arrow straight brows, rarely gave away what he was thinking . How many hours had the warrior and Wlenca practiced their weapon drill together? How many times had they shared a joke and downed cups of ale in Falca's Hall?

Kai.

“I was wondering what to do with him. Wasn’t sure if I could keep myself from killing him before you got here. He is yours, Wlenca,” said Ida, very much a king and proudly presenting his hearth companion with another valuable gift

Wlenca said nothing but pulled his shield round on its strap from his back, and drew his sword. He hefted the familiar weight then paced out toward his ghost from the past.

Only it was not a ghost, though the face that Wlenca could see was ashen. It was the betrayer of Wlenca’s sworn lord and king from five years before.

It was fate then. The past had risen in Wlenca’s thoughts for a reason the day before, when he'd still been at Din Guardi.

They stared at one another for a long time. And then Kai’s eyes flickered. With a jolt, Wlenca realised that for once the hardened warrior was afraid.

“This is the day you die,” he said calmly, capitalising on the other man’s unease. Kai crouched, raising his shield, preparing to defend.

They had always been evenly matched. But that had been before Wlenca had fallen from a horse and broken his leg. Though it had healed well, he knew he was not as fast as he used to be. And maybe Kai had already seen his gait and realised that he favoured his left leg a little. But Wlenca settled his thoughts and let the battle calm flow into his veins, as natural as breathing. He knew that both he and Kai had this same trait. For Wlenca it was a sure belief in fate - if it was his day to die today, he could not change it. But for Kai, it was something else. Something Wlenca had never fully understood.

Kai appeared to have no family. Nothing to root him to this life. Instead, he was loyal to his lords. Too loyal. Wlenca immediately cut his thoughts away from the memories. Ultimately, neither feared death which allowed them to concentrate on task of fighting and killing. They paced around each other, working out who would make the first move.

Wlenca could see that there really was something amiss with the other man, whose colour seemed to be fading further, and who was taking ragged breaths as he moved to and fro. He was obviously shaken, which put him at a disadvantage.

Wlenca, now certain he had the upper hand, darted forward suddenly. Kai jerked his shield up further, taking the blows, but not using his sword to slash back. He kept backing away as Wlenca strode forward making fast, heavy raking blows. The crowd of watching men jeered, calling Kai a coward, shouting encouragement to Wlenca. All the while, Kai watched Wlenca intently, but did not make any return moves.

Finally, sure of his opponent’s utter lack of will to really fight, Wlenca made a risky cut, right under the Kai’s guard. He twisted his sword up and flicked it around harshly so that Kai lost his grip on his own sword and dropped it with a pained gasp. Then Kai lost his footing on the uneven ground and staggered back trying to get the shield in the sword’s way. Finally he fell backwards and in doing so, deliberately flung his shield aside.

Kai was making it an easy kill, which made Wlenca angry and snapping him from calm. Kai was not fighting back, and it was an insult. How dare he make it such a cheap victory? Swiftly, Wlenca dropped his own shield, sheathed his sword, and drew his knife. Kai did not move to rise, instead lay, breathing hard, waiting for death.

Wlenca stood astride Kai, then dropped down on one knee, pulling the warrior up by the neck of his mail shirt.

“Why?” Wlenca hissed, fighting his own instincts to slash the other man's throat.

Kai didn’t pretend to misunderstand him.

“I didn’t betray you,” he breathed fitfully, his eyes half-closed.

“Don’t lie to me. You disappeared and then my king was ambushed and killed by your masters,” Wlenca paused for an answer but Kai merely waited for the knife. “Look at me!” Wlenca became aware that he was shouting.

Kai’s eyelids flickered, and Wlenca saw that tears were welling up in the other man’s eyes.

“We trusted you and you betrayed us.” Wlenca said as quietly as he could muster.

“No” the warrior mouthed, shaking his head a little.

Wlenca let him drop back down to the ground, then leant and thrust back Kai’s chin, preparing to cut his throat. And then he saw it. Glinting a little in the hard morning light, showing just above the neck of Kai's tunic. The gold neck ring that Falca had given to Kai years ago in Deira. Wlenca wore its twin, and now it seemed to weigh very heavily.

Falca had given Wlenca the neck ring as a gift. Wlenca and he had been friends since childhood, and when Falca had been elected king, he had asked Wlenca to be his Chief Gesith - his hearth companion, and his bodyguard. He still wore it, even now, with Falca long dead.

The neck ring Kai wore had been presented for saving Falca’s life, in a failed assassination attempt by disaffected Deirans. Kai, visiting on a mission set by his Welsh masters, had been one of the few warriors at the Hall, and had fought against great odds to protect the injured king. Wlenca had been the one to take the gift across the Derwent river border to Kai, and place around his neck.

“I don’t believe you,” Wlenca whispered.

“I didn’t want him dead,” Kai gasped and Wlenca found himself looking at those familiar eyes, that he had always believed reflected guileless honesty. But there was something else seething in both Kai's voice and the expression on his face.

Wlenca’s fingers brushed against the burnished gold of the neck ring, his fingers also touching the smooth skin of Kai's neck. Falca had wanted Kai as a gesith, but Kai served the Welsh, and had ultimately been loyal to them.

“You betrayed us!” Wlenca almost screamed the words, as the feelings of grief and anger seemed to swell up and threaten to drown him once more. Calls from the watching men seemed to rise like the bay of a pack of hunting hounds close to the kill.

Kai closed his eyes again, inviting him to deliver the death blow. Wlenca drew his arm back, readying to slash with the knife’s blade. But the fingers of his other hand seemed to catch against the neck ring. He stopped.

It was as though he could almost hear Falca’s voice – _this is not for you to do, this is not what I want_. And yet Wlenca still felt the anger surging within him. How many men had he killed for less than betrayal? How many had he slain on the battlefield? Without any thought. And now the cause of his greatest grief lay before him, expecting death. Expecting him to carry it out. 

Wlenca made himself breathe out slowly.

“Too easy,” he muttered, sheathing his knife, standing then roughly pulling Kai to his feet. “Armour off,” he ordered.

Kai, seemed dazed for a moment, but then started the well-rehearsed movements of a warrior shedding his armour. First the helmet, which he dropped to the ground carelessly, as though throwing it away presented no problem. Next the sword belt, and the knife belt dropped to the ground, then he leant forward and pulled the mail shirt over his head.

The watching men murmured unhappily and Ida strode forward.

“What is it?”

“You said he’s mine. I’ll do with him as I please,” Wlenca answered coldly, eyeing Kai.

“You are going to kill him, aren’t you Wlenca?” the young king was incredulous.

“When I’m ready.”

“He betrayed my cousin.”

“He betrayed my king, my sworn lord, my dear friend. You gave him to me, Ida.”

Ida shook his head. “Not for this,” he said.

“Kai betrayed us all. Death is too quick for him.”

Kai’s face, though still pale, was now closed, showing nothing as he straightened and let the shirt pool onto the ground. Wlenca, aimed at Kai’s jaw with his clenched fist which knocked the other man to the ground.

“Get up!” Wlenca growled at Kai, who slowly rose. He was bleeding due to a cut lip, but let the blood drip onto the oily jerkin he had been wearing under his armour.

“Too easy,” said Wlenca to Ida, then, as if to emphasise what he meant even further, he hit Kai, this time in the side of the head, which made him stagger, “You see what I mean? He is mine to kill, when I please.”

Ida nodded and smiled, watching bemused as Kai slowly straightened up, clearly dazed.

“As you wish Wlenca,” said Ida with a smile, finally satisfied.


	2. Chapter 2

Wlenca hardly thought about Kai the next day. Wlenca assigned him to one of the armour bearers who kept an eye on him, ensuring that the slave did not try to escape and did all the menial tasks - fetching and carrying, repairing armour, helping with preparing and serving the food.

The warband continued to be harried by Picts, as it began to make its way back to Din Guardi. Wlenca suspected that they were in the pay of the Welsh, as they were persistent, and seemingly trying to prevent the Anglian warband from returning to the coast. However, the Picts did not look for an out and out battle, and the Anglian scouts seemed to think there were not many warriors remaining, despite the constant arrows that fell amongst the the warband. Few barbs hit any mark, but it was like a dog being annoyed at the itching of a flea

A few days later, early in the morning as the mist still lay close to the ground, a Pictish messenger boldly walked into the camp asking for King Idehere.

“I have come to offer ransom for Kai,” he said haltingly in the Welsh tongue, which one of the local Anglian settlers who had lived in Berneich for years under the Welsh king, translated for them.

Ida laughed flatly and glanced at Wlenca, who was still rubbing the early dew from his face. Like the rest of the men, his clothes were wet through and he was wanting the comfort over overnight shelter

“My lord values this warrior highly and is willing to pay good silver,” the messenger added, then glanced around until he caught sight of Kai, who was squatting at one of the campfires, stirring a pot.

“Why? “asked Wlenca puzzled about Kai’s significance. 

“Kai is an excellent warrior who has provided great service to my lord,” was the reply.

“He is not for sale.” Wlenca retorted wondering if he was more annoyed by the messenger or by the pervading damp. 

With no hesitation, the messenger spoke again, “My lord asks if he can see Kai, so that he might know all is well.”

“Your lord can see Kai only if he pays me a lot of silver and then leaves this land.” Wlenca glanced at the sky and wondered when or if the sun would would ever come out.

The messenger confirmed that he would take the message to his lord, and swiftly retreated. Wlenca agreed with Ida that they should wait until the Picts had returned with an answer before they moved the warband on back toward the coast. There was a constant stream of riders between the warband and DIn Guardi, and all reported that there were no enemy movements anywhere near the fort, so there was little need to worry about it.

Later, Wlenca found Kai sitting by a fire, mending a mailshirt. Kai had obeyed all orders, and had not spoken unless required to answer. His face was badly bruised where Wlenca had hit him, and there were doubtless other bruises under his clothes where others had hit out. But presumably out of respect to Wlenca, no-one had used a weapon against him. His cut lip was starting to heal.

“Why are the Picts interested in you?”

demanded Wlenca as he sat beside the fire and warmed his hands. There was still no sign of the sun.

“I serve their Prince,” Kai replied, keeping his eyes down, and focussed on the task in hand. He was swiftly mending a tear in the rings of the shirt, using pliers and spare wire to link the gaps.

“Are they in the pay of Owain?” The king of the Welsh had been ousted from Din Guardi a few months before.

“Yes.”

“How many Picts are there?”

“I don’t know. There are many princes amongst the Picts.”

“So you betray Falca, but not them?” Wlenca asked sharply.

“No.”

Wlenca leant and grabbed hold of Kai’s plait of hair, yanking back his head,

“How many are there?” Wlenca spoke slowly, trying to contain his anger

“Drustan was offered good silver to bring his warband here, that’s all I know.”

Once again, Wlenca caught sight of the gold at Kai’s throat, which seemed to act as a warning, almost guarding against death.

“How many in the warband?”

“Two hundred came south, but some have returned home and some are dead.”

For good measure, Wlenca cuffed Kai hard on the side of the head and went to seek out Ida.

 

By mid-day, when the sun was finally out, hot and high, the Picts returned. This time in goodly numbers, with armed men on horseback. Wlenca had ensured the Anglians were ready, and they formed up as soon as the scouts came back with reports of horsemen coming their way.

The Pictish prince came forward, with a tall raw-boned youth at his side. It immediately became clear that the youth was Anglian, possibly one of the earlier Berneich settlers as he could speak both Anglian and Pictish, so acted as translator to the Prince who introduced himself as Drustan. Both the prince and the translator kept glancing toward Kai, whose face remained blank. Wlenca had assigned one of warriors to keep hold of Kai, with a knife at the ready, should there be any trouble.

“How was Kai injured?” asked Drustan.

“Kai is lucky to be alive at all, so don’t be worrying about a few bruises. He lives only as long as Wlenca wills it” replied Ida coolly, with a quick look in Wlenca’s direction.

Both Drustan’s and the translator’s eyes widened, and they both glanced at Wlenca as if they had heard his name before.

“You know of me?” Wlenca asked, baffled. His mood was better now the cloth against his skin was nearly dried out.

“Kai has spoken of you,” the translator stuttered, then glanced at Kai again, seemingly shocked.

“Feeling guilty was he?” Ida cut in, “I think we need to talk of payment before we go any further, don’t you?”

Once again, the Prince spoke of ransom, but Wlenca had no intention of allowing Kai go free. Drustan offered increasing amounts, but to no avail. With obvious reluctance, Drustan finally accepted that he would not get Kai back.

“I will leave here, and return to my lands. But first, I would speak with Kai.”

“How do we know you will go?” asked Ida.

“I have lost enough people.”

“Show me some silver, and you can talk with him for a short while” said Wlenca. They haggled over the silver for a while, the Picts making a tidy pile of silver treasure - jewellery, old Roman coins, and cups - until Wlenca was satisfied with amount, which in itself should have easily paid for Kai's ransom.

Drustan approached Kai, and spoke softly. Kai, shook his head several times, not meeting Drustan's eyes. Drustan gestured toward Wlenca in desperate fashion, as if to say, _you can’t stay here with him_. But Kai just replied with a few quiet words, finally looking at Drustan intently. Drustan murmured, reaching out, as though to touch Kai’s cheek, but Kai shook his head again.

Suddenly, Drustan dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to Kai’s shoes, then looked up at him. At the very least it was a gesture of supplication, which made no sense as surely Kai was Drustan’s man, and not the other way round? Hesitantly, as if uncertain, Kai leant and touched the Pictish prince's dark head for a moment.

Drustan leapt to his feet, as though released.

“I go now,” he said and walked away. The translator followed, though stopped and stared at Kai for a moment, who was now just looking down. When mounted on his horse, Drustan looked back at Kai, and gave a rough salute with his hand as he turned his horse away. The translator also mounted up and gave a loud whooping war cry the like of which no Anglian would surely ever do, then followed his prince.

After he and Ida decided not to break camp that day, Wlenca returned to question Kai, who had returned to the mail shirt.

“What was that all about?”

“My lord?” Kai asked, eyes lowered, as befitting a slave.

“Drustan. He seemed to hold you in more esteem even than a warrior from his hearth troop.”

“He was releasing me from his service.”

“Looked like the other way round.”

Kai shook his head, but Wlenca knew there was something else.

“Will he go?” Wlenca pressed.

“Yes, he will keep his word.”

Once again, Wlenca stepped forward and reached down, grabbing hold of Kai’s plait, pulling his head back. He stared into the closed face.

“You had better not be lying,” said Wlenca, releasing the plait, then hitting him hard across the face, which cracked the cut lip open again.

“He gave me his word,” Kai said spitting out blood as he spoke with no expression. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Why would a prince kneel to you, his own man?”

Kai spat out some more blood, then licked at his split bottom lip.

“I was good friends with his sister. He had sworn to protect me. I released him from all responsibility.”

Wlenca stared at Kai, who began to gather together the tools and mail shirt that had been dropped when Wlenca had hit him.

“It looked like more than that to me,” Wlenca said slowly, sure that this was still not the truth.

Kai looked up at him. His eyes met Wlenca’s with that cool look he’d seen so many times from men who would always give good account of themselves on the battlefield.

“The Picts are very different from the Welsh and the Anglians. Drustan was grateful I released him from his obligation to me.”

“Because you were his sister’s lover?” Wlenca was still dubious.

Kai dabbed at his bottom lip again. “Pictish women hold the power. It was his sister who brokered the alliance with Owain of Din Guardi. It was his sister who sent us south,” he said.

“Owain and the Picts were in alliance?”

“It’s all finished now. They have lost too many men. There’s nothing to gain. She’s called him back.”

“But they may return to retrieve you?”

“Drustan gave me his word that he will not.”

For a moment, Wlenca was surprised that Kai had sought Drustan's promise not to try to rescue him. Then Wlenca realised he was starting to believe what Kai was saying and rejected it, “If he comes to Din Guardi, you’re a dead man.”

“I am already a dead man,” Kai said picking up the small pliers again.

Wlenca grabbed hold of Kai’s plait, twisting it, and pulling his face close to his own. Kai looked him straight in the eyes.

“Why did you betray us?” Wlenca demanded.

“I did not betray you,” Kai replied baldly.

“It was you who told us where to meet the Welsh.”

The impassive set mask of Kai’s face began to crumble, “I didn’t know what they were planning. I wasn’t there when it happened. I thought you were all dead, Westerfalca and you, and all the companions. When I saw you a few days ago ...” His voice cracked, and he stopped speaking for a moment, as if in pain, then he gasped, “I thought you were a ghost.”

Wlenca loosened his grip on Kai’s hair a little. He felt vaguely amused that they had both thought one another were ghosts. “Oh, I was flat on my back, with my leg strapped up, so I wasn’t with him. I should be dead too. The king’s companions should all die defending their lord. But the captain of Falca's companions had not even been there.” Just saying the words brought back the crushing bitterness of outliving his king and friend.

“That horse?” Kai whispered frowning for a moment, realisation dawning in his face.

Kai was right. That horse. That ill-tempered brute his mother had given him as a wedding present. It had thrown him, breaking his leg and he had been lucky that a good wisewoman had known how to treat the break properly. She had set it, strapped his leg to a board, and somehow it had not become infected. But in the two months Wlenca was been laid up, Falca met the Welsh from Eforwic and been killed, along with thirty of his gesiths. Deira had been thrown into confusion, during which time, the Welsh had taken back land long-ceded to the Anglians. It was land they had soon regained when the Anglians elected Soemil, who showed no mercy in taking it all back.

Wlenca released Kai’s hair, and without thinking brushed away the blood welling on Kai’s lip. Kai flinched, jerking back his head in surprise.

“Why didn’t you come to us?” Wlenca asked, his tone more gentle than he intended.

“Why would I? I thought you were all dead,” he said with the blood springing from the wound on his lip again.

Wlenca blinked. Of course. It now seemed so obvious to him now, but at the time Wlenca had waited desperately for Kai to arrive. The days passed and slowly Wlenca began listened to what others were saying - that Kai had gained the trust of Falca, drawn him into lowering his defences, and then set up the ambush. Maybe that was still true. The years since had not dulled his pain at Falca’s betrayal and death. He had loved the man sitting before him now more than a brother, far more than he should, and that love had been betrayed.

Wlenca reached out, and with one hand clamped his fingers around Kai’s windpipe. Choking, Kai fell back, but did nothing to fight whilst Wlenca exerted more pressure. There was nothing to stop him from killing the man who was his property. He could finish it now and there would be an end to it. But would there? He stopped and while Kai spluttered red faced and gasping for more air, he fingered the gold at Kai’s neck. 

“Take it off,” Wlenca ordered.

Still coughing, Kai managed to sit up, and reached behind his neck to fumble with the catch. It took him a couple of goes, but finally he sprung the hook and pulled the neck ring off, offering it to Wlenca. It was a plain band of gold, so precious that when Falca had given Wlenca his own, he had hardly thought he was worthy of it. And yet Wlenca had never doubted that Kai deserved its twin for saving Falca’s life, until the ambush.

Wlenca took the neck ring from Kai, and it was still warm from his body heat. Wlenca placed it around his own neck, tucking it under the fabric of his tunic to lie against the other ring. Perhaps that was all he needed now. He watched Kai, who was once again patiently gathering up the tools and mail, though still coughing slightly, and rubbing at his throat every now and then.

Wlenca imagined drawing his knife, getting hold of Kai and drawing the blade across the man’s throat, then pushing his body forward to the ground as he spilled out his life’s blood.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you?”

Kai paused before looking up, “I will not plead for my life. Maybe I deserve death for the part I played in Westerfalca’s ambush.” Kai had always called Falca by his full name.

“And what part did you play?”

“I did not see what my masters were doing. Did not see how they used me. Did not see how they realised that Westerfalca trusted me. I was stupid and didn’t realise what was happening until it was too late, and I saw ...,” his voice caught and he looked away.

“What?” Wlenca's mouth suddenly became dry. He half knew what Kai's reply would be.

Kai looked back, and once again, Wlenca saw tears shimmering in his eyes.

“I saw his head on a spear,” Kai rasped and swallowed, then coughed a little, “Near the end, they sent me on a fool’s errand to Elmet in case I realised what they were planning. When I got back, it was all over. It was my fault, for not realising. For not leaving Eboracum when Westerfalca asked me to join him. If I’d done that, maybe he would be alive now.”

At that, Wlenca let his fist fly once more, and walked away not caring to see what damage he had inflicted.


	3. Chapter 3

It was good to return to Din Guardi. Wlenca realised he loved the fortress which stood on a rocky outcrop so close to the sea, and dominated the area around. Never mind the blustering wind most days - when the sun was out, the light picked out fort so clearly, and the seascape shone.

As Ida’s captain, he had a small house away from the noise of the hall. Rather than having Acha to look after him, it was now Kai’s duty. Acha was happy enough, having been promoted to Wlenca's deputy, as he had held the fort with few problems when Wlenca had been called away by Ida.

Wlenca was in charge of all aspects of running the fort, whilst Ida settled into the role of king. Now the Picts had been subdued, the dissenters sued for peace, and their king was nowhere to be seen. Ida instantly demanded tribute from most of the kingdom, bar the Anglians who had settled there a few decades or so before. Ida spent only a few weeks at the fort before he decided to go on a royal progression to get a good look at his new subjects and collect his tribute in person. Wlenca half expected to be drafted to go with him, but no. Ida gave him the fort to hold again.

Wlenca spent much of his time negotiating with those who worked the land close to the fort, as well as the traders who didn not want to pay any duty on the goods they were bringing in. It was not Wlenca’s strong point, but he quickly became more adept at working out what the traders would actually pay rather than letting them go elsewhere. Trade was to be encouraged but not at a price which would lose Ida precious metals.

When Wlenca got the chance, it was a relief to undertake weapons practice with those warriors who were not on duty. And there was good hunting to be had in the woods inland. But for him, it was like being back on his family’s land. There was little interest in it. He had spent too many years in Falca’s guard, and then with Soemil, taking back Deiran land to easily settle down to adminstrative tasks.

Meanwhile, Kai was proving to be an excellent slave, which was almost a disappointment. Kai accompanied Wlenca much of the time, ensuring he was fed and watered, that he had the right equipment for hunting, or weapons practice. Granted, Kai was not allowed to handle weaponry, but he always anticipated what was required and went to request that a guard delivered it from the armoury. He also kept the house clean, and ensured that Wlenca’s linens were washed. Wlenca hardly had to prompt him on anything.

At first, Wlenca was wary of having Kai in the house with him, and half expected to wake one night with Kai holding his own knife to his throat, or just trying to strangle him. But as time went on, he knew Kai would bed down near the door, and that he would not move until it was light and time to open the shutters. Then Kai would help him get dressed, with deft touches to ensure the cloth of his tunic hung properly, or that the folds of his cloak did not bunch uncomfortably around the brooch. Slowly Wlenca realised that Kai was taking very good care of him, without being asked.

Wlenca did not know when he stopped being angry with Kai, but when they had arrived at the fort he ceased to want to hit out. There were about a dozen days when he was happy Kai was subservient and would glance at Kai working and feel satisfied that this was plenty of punishment. But then it turned to appreciating what Kai did for him, and he was aware that his manner softened toward his slave.

They hardly spoke, and when they did, Wlenca asked Kai to do something, he always did it with a quick nod. In some ways, it was like having the old Kai back again, but not completely. Kai did not look him in the face, concentrating on the task in hand instead. And of course he initiated no conversation. He was no longer a free man, which seemed to worry Wlenca more than Kai himself, who seemed quite content. Though Wlenca noticed that Kai was losing weight, so that he was well below the muscle bulk required for him to be an effective warrior.

Wlenca found himself longing to see Kai eyes dance with merriment at something that had happened, or something that had been said. Or to have a lively conversation with him, comments, jokes and jibes tossed back and forth between the two of them.

Wlenca liked to walk on the beach that was revealed below the fort when the tide went out. Usually, he went alone or sometimes took one of the hounds from the Hall with him, but one day wanting to talk with Kai, he deliberated requested the slave pack some food and drink and come with him.

Firstly, they had to get to the beach, which took time in itself. The dunes were uneven, and so deep in places that they had to stagger over the piles of sand. When nearly on the flat, Wlenca chose to sit down and indicated that Kai should sit by him. They sat silently for a while. Wlenca was happy to stare out to sea, watching the birds fly in the distance, and listening to the sounds of the waves lapping. Eventually he was ready to speak and glanced at Kai.

“Do you remember that beach back in Deira?” 

“Yes, lord.”

“You’d never seen the sea before.” Wlenca smiled a little at the memory

“No, lord, but I’ve seen plenty of it since. Would you like the food now?”

“Yes, and you have some too.”

Kai opened the cloth bag and brought out a small brown loaf and crumbly cheese wrapped in leaves. He broke off some bread and piled some cheese on top then handed it to Wlenca.

“How come you were with the Picts?” Wlenca asked between mouthfuls

Kai broke off some bread then paused. Wlenca waited patiently.

“I was taken in by Drustan. After the battle of the Crooked Glen when Lord Moderatus was killed,” Kai replied and bit at the bread.

Wlenca half laughed “I’m bound over to ask who?”

Kai gazed out to sea again.

“After I left Eboracum, I went north. I was taken into the Hall of Lord Moderatus in Din Eidyn. I was posted to watch out the border with the Picts and was taken captive by Drustan, who let me return to Moderatus with a message regarding Arthur who was after more tribute from many of the lords. Eventually, it came to a battle, which included most of the lords of this part of the north. Arthur was killed, as was Moderatus. Then Drustan invited me to join him, my lord.” Kai spoke quietly, and with a detached matter-of-fact tone.

Wlenca could hardly imagine Kai living with others. He always thought of him in Falca's Great Hall in Deira. That, or in inside the grey walls of Eforwic. But he'd never heard of these men, barDrustan, or lands that Kai spoke of. And then it struck him.

“So your lord died, but you survived. It is as if you choose them and they are finished,” he said, watching carefully for Kai's reaction.

Kai’s chin jerked up a little and he looked at Wlenca for a long moment.

“It seems so,” Kai said at last, “But Moderatus was no Westerfalca, though he treated me well.”

“Drustan seemed very attached to you. Why was that?”

“As I said, Drustan’s sister and I were good friends.”

Wlenca got the feeling he wasn’t hearing the whole truth of the matter again, “Lovers?” he ventured.

“No, Lord,” replied Kai, but there was distinct glint of amusement around his eyes for a moment, “She and I just understood one another. She is the leader of her tribe and … she is still alive even though I gave my loyalty to her …” Kai ended sounding uncertain, as if something was catching at him.

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“She still lives. Something just occurred to me,” said Kai, and for a brief moment Wlenca thought he saw the old honest Kai.

“What?”

Kai took a deep breath then seemed to cover his thoughts, reverting to the quiet slave.

“May be things are changing now,” he said.

Wlenca was going to ask what Kai meant, but there was a shout behind them. It was Acha, staggering over the dunes as fast as he could – a messenger had just arrived to say Ida was returning within two days. 


	4. Chapter 4

The whole fort was in an uproar of preparation. It suited Wlenca well enough to go out with the hunting party and get away from the frenzy of repairs and cleaning. He took Kai with him, to help carry back the kill. For most of the day, they had little luck stalking either deer or boar, but finally managed to bring down a fine stag. As they made their way back to the fort on foot, it began to rain in heavy drops soaking them all, as they had not taken any cloaks with them. It seemed to take an eternity getting back, and finally climb the ramp up to the fort. The sky was dark, and threatening to keep up its outpouring for a good part of the night.

After presenting the deer to the kitchens, Wlenca went back to his house to find that Kai had already kindled the fire in its pit. Still in his damp clothes, he was rummaging in the clothes chest, but stopped as Wlenca strode through the door. Instantly Kai handed him a soft linen cloth for him to wipe his face and hair, whilst he busied himself undoing Wlenca’s sodden leather belt. Then the slave knelt and unwound the woollen leg wraps, and pulled at the the straps of his shoes.

Without a word, Kai took the cloth from Wlenca’s hands, and helped pulled off his tunic, which was now damp and heavy. Then the linen under tunic, which was wet through. Kai gave him another dry cloth for him to wipe down his torso, then loosened the tie to Wlenca’s trousers.

“Shoes, lord,” he murmured, and knelt to finally remove the muddy shoes and socks.

“So much for the new shoes,” Wlenca commented as Kai threw them into the corner with along with the damp tunics. 

Then Kai helped Wlenca to get out of his trousers, and together they used cloths to wipe him dry as he stood by the fire.

As Wlenca sat down in a dry pair of trousers, and put clean pair of shoes on, Kai retrieved a green woollen tunic, edged with fine bands of tablet weave for him to wear. He stood again and allowed Kai to help him get into it.

As Kai stood smoothing the cloth across his shoulders, Wlenca bent his head down a little watching what his slave was doing, fascinated by his absorption in the task. Kai stood in front of him, passed a belt around Wlenca's waist, then threaded the belt end through its buckle. He glanced up and found Wlenca’s face very close to his. Wlenca smiled a little then saw Kai’s cheeks flush with colour, and the slave looked away quickly, trying to tighten the belt. Wlenca lent a little closer and Kai stopped what he was doing.

Wlenca stayed where he was, listening to Kai’s soft breathing. The other man’s closeness seemed so familiar, so comfortable. Wlenca whispered his name and Kai looked up hesitantly. Wlenca lent a little more until his mouth touched Kai’s. Slowly, he kissed Kai, finding him yield uncertainly, but once their tongues met, Kai seemed to understand and react more strongly. Wlenca slipped a hand under Kai’s ear, feeling his damp hair, and pulled him in closer, not caring about Kai’s wet clothes.

Wlenca felt warmth spread within him and old feelings spark and rekindle. This was the one he had wanted so badly that it hurt, and then that keening pain had deepened when Falca was betrayed. But now his wanting seemed to be reciprocated. He stopped for a moment, breathless, almost light-headed.

Kai was blinking and seemed confused. Suddenly he pulled away, a hand covering his mouth, eyes wide and bewildered.

They stared at one another for a long time, and just as Wlenca was about to reach out again, Kai turned away. He took a dry cloak from its peg, and held it for a moment, then shook it out and finally approaching Wlenca. He arranged the cloth over Wlenca’s shoulders, then had to come very close to fix the brooch. Wlenca could see his hands trembling.

“I won’t hurt you anymore,” Wlenca said quietly not wanting to cause further fear, then added to reassure Kai, “Or hit you again.”

Kai nodded, and stood back. Wlenca was ready to go to the hall for the evening meal, and left the house half dazed by what had happened. All the feelings again, flaring like they had before. The frustration of having Kai so near was even worse than last time, now the other man had not pushed him away. 

Wlenca ran through the pelting rain to the shelter of the Hall. After a while, Kai joined him in the hall to act as his cup-bearer having changed into dry clothes. Wlenca wondered where Kai had got the tunic as the slave only had one outer tunic, then recognised it was one of his own older ones, which would have been packed down the bottom of the clothes chest. The tunic had been washed and repaired so many times, it was not fit clothing for a man of Wlenca's standing any more. He smiled into his cup when he realised that he would have worn it in Deira, and maybe Kai had seen in back then. Acha was telling Wlenca about how the far the preparations for Ida’s return had come. But Wlenca had difficulty concentrating, acutely aware of every time Kai leant forward to fill his cup or Acha’s. The familiar brown tunic being worn by teh slave made it all the more difficult. To dull his thoughts, Wlenca drank more than he normally did and at the end of the evening had to be taken back to the house with Kai under one arm and Acha under the other, supporting him. Between them, Wlenca just kept laughing and singing an old song. A song he’d last heard at his wedding, he declared loudly.

“You were there, weren’t you, Kai?” he slurred as they made their way down the dark track.

“Hush, my lord,” said Acha, barely holding back laughter.

“You weren’t there, Acha my boy, but Kai certainly was, weren’t you?”

“Yes, lord.”

“And you tried to pick a fight with me, didn’t you, eh?”

“Yes, lord, but I was rather drunk at the time.”

Wlenca guffawed. ”And I wasn’t drunk enough! I am now! But I’m not up to a fight.”

“Neither am I, lord, so we need to get you to bed.”

“Makes sense to me!”

He had trouble being steered through the door, then fell gratefully on the bed, and vaguely heard Acha and Kai talking to one another. They decided not to try and undress him, but to leave him where he lay, for which he was grateful and said as much to them, or thought he did. He found it all very funny.

Wlenca woke next day, staring up at the laths of the roof, thinking for a moment he was back in Deira, and Falca was still alive. He tried to sit up, groaned and slumped back down. Then the previous day’s escapades flooded back and he groaned.

“Kai!” he called, then winced at the loud sound of his own voice.

“Lord?”

“What happened last night?”

“You got drunk, lord”

“Yes, before that?”

“You had something to eat, lord.”

“And before that?”

“You got soaked in the rain and had to change your clothes. Sit up slowly, lord, I have some spring water for you to drink.”

Gingerly, Wlenca sat up, leaning against the wall.

“And did anything else happen I should know about?”

There was no hesitation,”No my lord,”

“We – I didn’t do anything stupid, did I?”

“No, my lord.”

“Makes a change!” he said lightly.

He took a sip of the cold clear water, but that didn’t dilute the memory of what had happened. He eyed Kai, who was bustling around, collecting up clothing. Presumably Kai's tunic had tried, as the brown one was nowhere in sight.

So they would pretend nothing had happened. Kai hadn’t fought him off, instead he had colluded at first, then realised what was happening.

Something Falca had said about Kai suddenly occurred to him. Kai had picked a fight with him at his wedding, and Wlenca had nearly punched him then. Falca had stopped him pointing out that Kai was drunk, and later he commented that drink often made people’s true feelings show. It had seemed to Falca that Kai was jealous of Wlenca marrying. He had said a lot of other things about Kai too.

He laughed out loud, then groaned again at the noise. Kai stopped what he was doing, and looked up.

“Lord?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just remembering something from long ago. Is there anything to eat?”

Kai left for the kitchens moments later. Wlenca slowly got to his feet, found he was quite steady, and only his head was protesting at being shifted. He stepped to the window to see that after yesterday’s rain, there was bright sunshine.

It hardly mattered what Falca had said about Kai all those years ago. The situation was still the same. Wlenca wanted Kai, but Kai did not want him. What had happened the previous evening had been a mistake for them both. And besides, Kai was not free, in more ways than one, if Falca had been correct. As his owner, Wlenca could do what he liked with him, but he felt too much for Kai to force himself on the slave. It had never been his way to rape. He always found the women he wanted very willing. But Kai was something quite different.

He swore softly as he remembered this was the day Ida was returning. More trouble.


	5. Chapter 5

In a mere six weeks, Ida looked older. He went out a boy, with features still forming, beard still wispy, but on returning to the fort, he had a good beard covering a strong chin, and peppering up to sharp cheekbones. His manner was more assured. Weeks of facing his new subjects and he was more direct and decisive.

Ida embraced Wlenca heartily, and asked him if there had been any trouble with the locals. Wlenca commented that Ida seemed to have grown - which was true as now he did not have to adjust his gaze even slightly down towards the younger man - and he was able to confirm there were no problems, minor stuff of no concern.

“Steady Wlenca, I knew I could count on you,” Ida said, thumping him on the shoulder, then he saw something, just behind Wlenca, and his face hardened.

”Isn’t he dead yet?”

There was no need for Wlenca to turn. He knew it was Kai, who no longer had any cuts and bruises adorning his face.

“You gave him to me Ida,” Wlenca replied mildly.

“You have more patience than me, then,” said Ida as he began to stride toward the Hall.

Wlenca was not minded to have an argument with Ida over the issue so began to tell him about the nearby farms and their yield. Aware that Kai was following, he glanced back, and gestured toward the house. Kai, obedient as ever, turned around and walked away.

Having seen his lands, Ida was full of its wonders. It was hillier than soft Deira, but had mines, and farms, he said as they sat at the high table in the Hall. The lands were enough for the moment. Wlenca was unable to prevent his eyebrows from rising up when he heard Ida hint that he might be looking further north to expand his area of influence.

“We need to consolidate for a while yet. We need to be sure of the Welsh lords of Berneich before looking to moving north,” he advised.

“Maybe, but I am not my cousin, Wlenca. Falca was always looking for alliance rather than conquering, and it was his downfall in the end.”

Wlenca blinked, then poured himself and Ida cups of ale while he thought.

“But he made a firm base. When he was ambushed, we didn’t disintegrate. We were in disarray but we didn't fight amongst ourselves.”

Ida’s nostrils flared, "You think I can’t trust my men?”

Wlenca, who had just taken a swig of his drink, shook his head, “There just aren’t enough of us yet, even counting the local Anglians.”

The boy was a like a hound with the scent of its prey in its nostrils, eager for the kill. Wlenca had talked him out of challenging Soemil's sucessor back in Deira, but now Ida had a sense of his independence, it would be difficult to stop him from doing anything that crossed his mind.

Ida thought for a while, taking sips of his beer.

“You are older than me Wlenca. I choose well to leave you here, as I could count on you to cover my back. But this is a young man’s game. I’m happy to leave you here out of it.”

“It’s not that, Ida. If your reach exceeds your grasp, you may find you lose everything ... “Wlenca was about to say more, but Ida laughed loudly. Several people in the Hall stopped their preparations for the evening's feast looked round.

Ida bent his head closer to Wlenca. “You weren’t with me out there. The Welsh are shit scared of us. Afraid we might slaughter the lot of them. They paid me tribute with hardly a second word.”

“And the Picts?”

“No Picts in sight. All gone.”

“Nothing to say they won’t return.”

“Nothing to say they will.”

“The Picts have plagued this area for generations, that much is clear from the farmers I spoke to. They come, take the livestock, take any silver or gold to be had, then disappear until the next time. The farmers weren't happy that Owain deliberately invited them in to fight us. That’s why it was easy to unseat him. He didn’t have the support of his lords or his people by that time. This goes beyond the sword and the spear – you can do _that_ Ida, but can you do the talking, the gaining of support?”

Ida’s grim face showed his rejection of what Wlenca had said.

“I thought you had balls Wlenca. Thought that was why the council considered you for King after your support of Falca. Instead you talk like him.”

Potentially, Wlenca could cry offence at his king’s words, but he was surprised to find himself almost unperturbed. Instead he shrugged.

“I was always a good second, but never a king. If they’d offered, I would have said no, and most of the council knew it.”

“You have no ambition,” Ida snapped as though it was disgusting.

Wlenca could not help smiling a little. “Just as well, otherwise I might have decided that Berneich was mine instead of yours.”

Ida’s eyes narrowed, his body tensed, and Wlenca saw his hand move to the hilt of his knife.

“You wouldn’t have the support to do that,” his king said.

“Really? And you don’t see that you need a wider base of support to keep your kingdom safe before you can gallop off north or west to take more Welsh land?”

“This is old man’s talk,” Ida snorted, but his hand dropped away from his knife belt.

“That’s why all the old men are in the Witan – they’re the ones who’ve lived long enough to be able to advise on how to keep your life and your lands.”

“They didn’t do Falca any good, then, did they?”

“He went against their advice – he told me, but he wanted to gain a long lasting peace with Eforwic. He died for that idea.”

“So I must listen to you, old man,” Ida sighed.

“I’m the oldest gesith you have.”

Wlenca was surprised at the depths of his own patience. He was a decade older than his king, and yet it felt like he was twice his age. Falca would have laughed to hear the conversation he was having with young Ida. It was the sort of conversation Falca often had with Wlenca, who had thought the sword was an easier decision-maker than words. Wlenca could remember spitting that the blade was certainly quicker than talk. And yet, Falca and he had been close to the same age, with Wlenca born just before Yule and Falca a few months later.

Ida was watching him. The younger man seemed more contemplative now.

“You are caught in the past, Wlenca,” he said.

Wlenca nodded. The boy was more truthful than he knew.

 

It was a night for wearing the best tunic. As usual Kai knew that without being told and had laid out Wlenca’s fine spun blue tunic in readiness. As Kai helped him to change, Wlenca spoke about Ida, partly to distract himself from thoughts about what had happened the previous day whilst Kai had dressed him.

“The boy’s got a fire up his arse, that’s for sure,” Wlenca said.

“It suits the land, lord,” said Kai, who was kneeling to adjust Wlenca’s leg wraps.

“What?” Wlenca sounded sharper than he had meant to, mainly because he was surprised that Kai was venturing an opinion. ”Go on,” he encouraged when Kai stayed silent.

“This isn’t the gentle wolds and flat land of Deira. It much more craggier, harder to work and to win,” Kai spoke softly, as he continued to align the wraps with steady hands.

“So you’re saying he’s right?”

“He does need to consolidate, perhaps, take a Welsh wife, sire an heir, bind the land to him. And then either him or his sons can expand. Maybe Berneich has the king that it needs and deserves.”

“Ha, given the chance, he’ll expand south and have Deira!”

“Maybe, lord,” Kai stood, checking him over.

Wlenca fingered his beard. He liked to keep it short, and it was getting to the point where he needed it clipped. But there wasn’t enough time now. It would be a long evening, with Ida presenting gifts to his followers, and swearing in new companions.

“I want to leave you here, but Ida will expect to see you in the Hall, serving at the high table. Be careful not to annoy him,” Wlenca told Kai as they left the house and began to climb up toward the Hall. Wlenca had half meant to give Kai another bruise or cut on the face, but had not the will to do it, especially as the had said he would not hit the slave again.

“The kitchens told me I’d be his and your cup bearer tonight, lord,” Kai said, and Wlenca nearly swore. Ida had his own cup bearer, so what did he want with Kai?

“Keep your head down and jump to his signals, then. But remember, you’re my slave, not his, so you obey me, not him.”

“Yes, my lord,” replied Kai, with a nod.

The evening began well enough, with Ida giving out rewards to the men who had been his guard for his procession. Then he swore in several new gesiths, which included, despite what he had said to Wlenca, three sons of Welsh lords he now held power over. So the new king was trying to forge alliances after all, which amused Wlenca, but he kept it to himself. Then the main drinking of the night began. The local mead was pale fiery stuff and soon ran out to be replaced by the strong dark ale made in the farms close by.

The lyre was passed round and bawdy, rambling songs were sung. The doors of the hall were thrown open, so that from the high table Wlenca could see the grey sea. He watched the light of the day die angrily into the darkness, and dusk slowly creep to the land. The women walked around the hall with a lighted lamps from which they lit others. Kai had already kindled the lamps on the high table and was a quiet presence behind the chairs of Ida and Wlenca.

“I’m thinking of taking a wife,” said Ida, as he watched the women moving around the tables further down the hall.

“Any candidates whilst you were visiting your lands?” Wlenca asked.

Ida’s gesiths hooted with laughter.

One of them piped up, "Women at every hall and farm we stayed, especially for our king.”

For a moment, memories of another summer years ago flitted across Wlenca’s thoughts. Falca was long married by then, so Wlenca claimed he had to keep the king’s honour by bedding every woman who threw herself at him. Wlenca could almost feel the golden sun of those days seeping into his bones again. Kai had been there too, joking about his friend’s voracious appetite for women. Wlenca had been trying to ignore his feelings toward Kai, even then.

Ida was grinning ferociously, "One or two women caught my eye. But no woman who would bring me the right connections,” he admitted.

“Word is,” said the gesith who’d spoken up earlier, “there might be some high born women amongst the Picts.”

“Might help secure my northern border, which would meet Uncle Wlenca’s approval,” Ida retorted.

Wlenca laughed, and then thought he had best not drink any more. He put his cup down, and Kai moved forward to fill it. Wlenca slipped his hand across the rim. Kai took the hint and stepped back.

“What do you know of the Pictish women, Kai?” Ida said loudly.

“Nothing, my lord," the slave replied quietly. Nothing that he was prepared to tell Ida, that was for sure, thought Wlenca.

It happened so quickly that Wlenca was unprepared. Ida bolted out of his seat and punched Kai in the face. Kai was propelled backwards, slamming his head against the wall, and the jug he was carrying flew out of his hands, shattering on the floor. Ida rubbed his knuckles whilst his gesiths cheered.

Wlenca turned in his seat, and saw Kai sprawled on the floor, raising a hand to his nose, which was gushing blood.

“Get up Kai, and stop the bleeding. Then get back to your post,” he growled as if teaching a stripling to fight.

Hearing the clear order, after years of training on the practice ground, Kai got up. Wlenca could see there was a cut bleeding profusely on his forehead, presumably where he’d clattered into the wall.

Ida was about to aim another blow when Wlenca said clearly but calmly, “You gave him to me, remember?”

“I gave him to you to kill. He should be long dead,” Ida watched as Kai moved away unsteadily to clean up.

“It pleases me to punish him. He knows he’s living on borrowed time,” Wlenca said mildly, and signalled to one of the serving women to bring up more ale.

Ida sat back down, and the conversation turned to the particular pleasures of the women they’d met on their journey. Wlenca was able to regale them with some of his exploits with females, mostly during that long hot summer that he had spent with Falca visiting what seemed to be every single farm up in the Wolds. Even Falca had noticed that Wlenca seemed to have a girl at every stop, and that his captain was decidedly sleepy for the most of the journey.

Wlenca was not sure when Kai returned, and only became aware of him when one of the gesiths yelled and grabbed at Kai, who easily swayed out of the way. A serving woman stepped in smartly and was rewarding with a comprehensive groping. She merely laughed and battered the man over the head with her now empty jug until he let her go.

There was much loud jeering and merriment in the hall as the night went on. Wlenca severely limited what he drank so that he remained aware of what was happening. He saw several of the gesiths glancing Kai’s way, and knowing that Ida had set the pace where the slave was concerned, Wlenca kept an eye on them. But it also seemed that the serving women deliberately decided to keep Kai away from that side of the high table, as Kai was eventually confined to serving the other side, where Acha and the other fort guards were. They were still rowdy, but were keeping it amongst themselves and being about as well behaved as drunks could be expected.

Wlenca was listening to another tall tale from one of the gesiths when Ida leant over to him.

“Wlenca, don’t you think it was about time that traitor Kai was dead? He killed your king after all!” Ida’s well-focussed harsh pale eyes told him that the new king was hardly drunk at all.

There was little reason to try and tell him that he knew what Kai’s part had been in the ambush, and that it had been a young man’s mistake rather than an assassin’s mission.

“At my leisure,” Wlenca assured him instead.

“The gesiths here think that they could make his life not worth living. He’s quite a pretty boy after all, and they wouldn’t be averse to giving him one, or several, up the arse.” Ida made a lewd gesture to back it up.

“Who’s to say that hasn’t happened already?” Wlenca countered.

“Oh really? Well these men here could make it so he can’t walk,” Ida lounged back in his chair and took a long pull from his cup.

“A slave who can’t walk isn’t any use to me.”

“They could kill him for you afterward, in that case.”

Wlenca was very clearly being warned to do something about Kai, before Ida did it for him.

“I was Falca’s gesith. It’s for me to do.”

Ida nodded and stared at him, whilst the gesiths looked on. Wlenca downed the rest of his cup and laughed easily, now knowing what he needed to do to finish it.

He called Kai, who was at the other end of the table. As he approached, Wlenca could see the extent of the damage Ida had caused. There was a big bruise and jagged slash on his forehead. The bridge of his nose was cut and there was bruising developing around his right eye and cheekbone.

As Kai reached across to fill his cup, Wlenca grabbed his arm, pulling him across then pushing him onto the table. The gesiths yelled their approval. Kai groaned, then gagged as Wlenca kissed him roughly to the drunken cheers of those in the hall. Kai tried to push him away, but instead Wlenca hit him with a vicious swipe to his left cheek.

Wlenca pulled Kai to his feet, and then began to push him along past Acha and the fort guards, and down the hall. Other men took side swipes at Kai as he staggered along. He fell and Wlenca pulled him up and shoved him toward the door. It looked like Kai was punch drunk, possibly still suffering from the blow to the head earlier in the evening, and he fell to his knees.

Wlenca jeered along with the rest, then grabbed hold of Kai’s tunic and hauled him to his feet. Then Wlenca picked him up, slinging him over one shoulder and was surprised at how light the slave was. For good measure, he slapped Kai’s backside and strode out of the hall to a chorus of cheers.

When he got to the house, Wlenca kicked the door open then deposited Kai on the floor. There was little light in the house, just the glimmering low fire that Kai had left hours before. Wlenca listened for a while, wondering if they had been followed. All he could hear was the Kai’s ragged breathing, and the muffled sounds of the hall in the distance.

Slowly, Kai moved to stand up. Never stay on the ground was one of the first things warriors were taught. If you were knocked down, you had to get up, as once you were down you were defenceless, an easy target. Kai had to lean back against the wall, but he was standing when Wlenca stepped closer. He heard Kai gasp, so stayed still for a moment. Then he moved slowly until he was standing very close, but not touching Kai. He leant forward, bending his head, so that his mouth was close to Kai’s ear. He could feel the tension in Kai’s body rather than see it in the gloom.

“I had to do that to get you out of there,” he whispered, sorely wanting to hold Kai close.

Kai remained stiff and prepared to fight, so Wlenca moved away. It was too dark now to be doing anything else, so he stripped swiftly and went to bed. In the dim firelight, he eventually saw Kai almost slide down the wall to sit on the floor.

Wlenca slept fitfully through the night. He woke several times as people slowly drifted home from the hall chattering, and clattering against house walls as they went. When he finally opened his eyes and could see dawning blue glinting through the gaps in the shutter, he rose and dressed. Kai instantly lifted his head, but Wlenca said nothing, grabbed his cloak and left the house.

The guard at the armoury was surprisingly alert as Wlenca approached. Being on the very early morning shift, the man was happy to have some company and also to help to get out the arms and armour that Wlenca requested. The stable boys were less alert and hardly stirred as Wlenca took his grey horse from the stalls and loaded the animal.

Wlenca then led the horse to to the house. In the steadily dawning light, Wlenca could see the mess that Kai’s face was in. Cuts and bruises to both cheekbones. Dried blood on the left where he had not cleaned it up, and the angry cut on the forehead. Wordlessly, Wlenca tied Kai’s hands together with a leather strap he had picked up at the stables, then mounted the grey and signalled Kai to follow him.

Fortunately, they did not have to go back past the hall to get out of the fort. The guards’ expressions changed from puzzled to understanding as they opened the gates. Kai’s hands were tied, and it was likely that Wlenca was going to sacrifice him to the gods. There was a temple in the woods only a few miles away.

Wlenca chivvied his horse up and down through the sandy, lumpy terrain, until the fort was in the far distance behind them, then he stopped and dismounted. Kai was walking quite a way behind, and Wlenca patiently waited until he caught up. The breeze was catching the stray strands of Kai’s dark hair, blowing it across the purple mess of his face.

Wlenca removed the strap from Kai's wrists, and then offered the reins of the horse to Kai who just stared uncomprehending.

“I shouldn’t have kept you this long. I was a fool. I should’ve known what Ida would do. I nearly got you killed,” Wlenca said by way of explanation, having difficulty keeping his voice steady.

Kai took the reins, still seeming to be uncertain, playing with them in his hands. He opened his mouth painfully a couple of times. Then he swallowed and looked up.

“I thought you were dead, until I saw you in that clearing'” he croaked.

“And I thought you’d betrayed us, and I’d never see you again. I’m sorry it happened this way, but it’s good to know you didn't betray us, Kai.”

Kai nodded and looked as though he was going to say something, but turned and tried to mount. It was a tall horse and the battered and bruised Kai had difficulty mounting, so Wlenca crouched, cupped his hands, and gave him a boost up onto the horse’s back.

“All your arms and armour are packed. Except your shield. Thought that would be too blatant,” Wlenca said.

Kai nodded, and his shoulders seemed to straighten a little – he was a free man again, not a slave. The horse shifted, eager to be off again. Kai pulled it round, close to Wlenca.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Are you going back to Eforwic?” Wlenca asked.

“No, I’m going home. Where I should’ve stayed,” Kai replied and gathered the reins. He leant out a little to brush a hand across Wlenca's cheek as the horse pulled away. Then he kicked the horse’s flanks and it trotted down the track.

The place where Kai’s fingers had touched Wlenca’s face tingled then seemed to burn. He watched the horse and rider move further away, and wished he was going with Kai. Walking back to the fort without the horse might be difficult to explain. But he just shook his head – he would come up with a story if Ida challenged him about Kai and the mount’s disappearance.

As Wlenca was about to turn away and follow the track back to the fort, Kai stopped the horse and raised his arm in salute. Wlenca raised his arm in reply, and Kai urged the horse away, over the hill and disappearing from his sight. Wlenca swallowed, trying to quash new grief.

For five years Wlenca believed that Kai had betrayed Falca. To know it was not true made his mind settle easier. He had been restless in the years since the ambush, not knowing what to do with himself, or where to be. Now he knew his place was not with Ida and his new kingdom. He would return home to Deira when the time was right. Maybe, he would find a woman whom he could finally settle with ... maybe not.

Where was Kai’s home? Wlenca tried to remember what he said back in Deira. It was down south somewhere, where the Saxons held sway. Perhaps it was time to travel more, meet Kai again, in better circumstances. He raised a hand to his throat and fingered the weight of the two neck rings. One of them belonged to Kai, and he wanted to return it.

Perhaps Falca had been right after all, and Kai was a Chooser of the Slain. In which case, seeking out Kai might be inviting death. Wlenca did not care if that was his fate. He would find Kai again.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Joyous Gard](https://archiveofourown.org/works/379275) by [lferion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/lferion)




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